Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Some Stuff...

I'm still getting the hang of this blogging and getting content up is a struggle for me. I want to opine on weighty matters (the election, metaphors for life, etc.) and have several posts started but my muse comes and goes - mostly goes.

Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light . . .

Here in DC we can usually depend on shirt-sleeve weather lasting until mid-November. However, winter seems to be coming a little early. The days seem to be shortening rather quickly and most evenings when I'm walking to the Metro downtown, the sun is low in the sky and the light seems to have a feeling - melancholy comes to mind.

But that's probably me.

Up until the beginning of the summer, I was enrolled in a bootcamp class - up three times a week at 5:15 am for a 6:00 am exercise class. It was fun and I stuck with it for a good long time, almost a year and a half. I wanted my mornings back so I stopped the class in favor of controlling my weight via Weight Watchers and I've enjoyed moderate success. Unfortunately, as the light becomes melancholy, so do I. I realized as I was walking home tonight that, since I'm not exercising regularly, I may need to pull out my SAD Light earlier than usual. Because exercise does wonders for depression - seasonal and the regular variety - my light didn't get a lot of use last year.

Still, coming home tonight and feeling that melancholy light, I sense I'm sinking a little bit. Noticing the dying light and feeling just a little... oh... I don't know - anxious - when there's no reason for it.

Worship the Locomotive

Waiting for the subway some mornings, I'm on the platform when the commuter train comes roaring in on its way to downtown. I've always loved trains.

Yesterday, as I looked at the locomotive, it was almost as if it was transparent and I could see right into all its inner workings. Just how did some engineer decide on all the bits and pieces that make this huge, noisy, powerful machine?

I felt like I should fall to my knees and worship such power. When it sings I have to struggle not to plug my ears with my fingers but I'm so thrilled.


I enjoy an occasional trip to the local adult bookstore. They're dying off, really, and seem to be filled with an older and older crowd of which I'm one.

So strange to see all those guys standing around, glaring at one another, feeling their dicks through their pants but nobody measures up enough to touch it but them. The space is crowded and those standing against the walls have to be brushed against so others can move from one place to another - you can't help but brush them a bit and they recoil as if burned.

I'd touch their dicks. That's what I came for.

What a fucking waste. Public play spaces are dying and the men who use them most don't even know it.